In My Restless Dreams
by locket dust
Summary: After Tim loses his entire family, he wanders in madness to a strange, hellish town where he searches for his lost love. xHome Improvement/Silent Hill 2x
1. Prologue: Nights in White Satin

The moon spread a fever into the house at midnight, dripping its white blood against the shadows and lightening the cold bedroom where Tim and Jill were slowly dancing; listening to an old radio he had just finished repairing. 'Nights in White Satin' playing its ghostlike melody, drowsed with static and tender pain. Jill leaned against him helplessly, the cologne of his warm skin always reminding her of sawdust, of happiness. She could remember being happy only when he held her in his arms. Away from his embrace she drowned. Dancing during the middle of the night was something Tim had come to cherish, particularly because it soothed Jill from her nightmares and emptiness; he felt he could finally reach her, to bring her back to life by letting her rest against him and swaying her in the bright darkness. It too helped him forget his torments, his guilt.

'_Beauty I've always missed, with these eyes before. Just what the truth is, I can't say anymore…' _tears glinted in Jill's eyes as she clung to Tim, the radio crackled and haunted, static hissing softly over the fluted blue music. She pressed herself deeper into his chest but could not feel his warmth anymore. The pain flourished, the memory of what she had lost hurt so terribly she could bleed without opening the wound, so sore it opened itself. Tim felt her grow heavy and tired in his arms, he dragged her with her feet skimming the carpet, wanting to hold her until the song was finished. He put his lips to her icy forehead and let her slump back into the bed.

"Will you fix me a cup of tea?" she murmured, her throat clotted and aching, it hurt to even speak. Her hands were folded atop the pillows as she waited until Tim had left the room. With the radio silenced, she could hear his footsteps on the stairs, kicking over the laundry and books she left disarrayed there, too exhausted to clean them up. "I love you," she whispered to him, certain he could not hear, and rose from the bed, turning away from the darkened mirror into the bathroom.

Downstairs the kettle burned in the dark as Tim waited by the stove, staring through the open door that led to the basement where his son had once slept. Jill had forgotten to shut it like always, he knew during the day she went to lay on Randy's bed and touch his things. She did the same in the bedroom belonging to Brad and Mark, going through their school work and old toys, breathing in the scent of their clothes, not wanting anything to stale. The house was littered in stained teacups, filthy plates of untouched food, laundry gathered upon the stairs and couch, and on the dining table photo books were strewn open, the pages worn by being turned endlessly with a sad finger.

Tim wanted to ignore the mess, to keep believing nothing was wrong, that his wife would return to him someday as the glowing creature she once was. He spent his time at work and in the garage, refusing pity from Wilson and Al, oil leaking across his fingers and gritty solitude filled the hours. If Jill was not crying into the photo albums or trying to steady a cup of tea in her shivering hands, she was sedated from her pain in bed, a string of prescriptions that deadened the sickness only when she slept.

A chill stung at his skin as he entered their bedroom, even with the porcelain cup blazing against his hand. An empty bed was shown to him in the darkness; he heard water running in the bath, peppering the floor. The tiles were slick as jewels, soaking his feet and threatening to pull him down. Tim saw her floating like a doll, the water bloomed with red, her wet arms drained and shining as they rested in a poppy-coloured sea. He sank to the floor and the sopping scarlet water collected in his palms, trickling through his fingers.

_'Just what you want to be, you will be in the end.'_


	2. Chapter One: Here Without You

_In my restless dreams, I see that town, Silent Hill. Do you remember? We had so many wonderful times there, you and I together, and when the boys were a bit older they came along to join us. We spent long hours out on the lake with the sun shining down on us and the water glittering so peacefully. I remember how simple and happy it felt, to watch the boys play while I was wrapped in your arms. And we could see the beautiful hotel across the glimmering lake. You promised you'd take me there again someday, but you never did. I know after we lost them, it would be impossible to return with their laughter haunting the air, but I'm alone there now, in our special place, waiting for you. _

Tim stood in the decaying roadside bathroom, staring into his clouded eyes which were reflected madly back to him from the cracked, grime-coated mirror. In his fist Jill's letter smoldered against his skin, he still could not wake from the bewilderment he had felt that morning when he received it. There was no address, only his name in her delicate handwriting, the ink shining as though it were wet. It had been three years since her suicide, how could she possibly have written to him? Tim looked further into the murky, rusted glass of the mirror, searching for the sanity he once possessed, fearing it all was slipping away from him. With a heavy effort he drew his head back and sighed into the muggy air of the filthy room.

Outside his car was broken down with the radio still mysteriously crackling on. _'I'm here without you baby, but you're still on my lonely mind. I think about you baby and I dream about you all the time…' _the song was a cruel one, the words seeping underneath his skin as he raked his fingers through the wires, desperately trying to get the engine working again. He'd finished repairing the old gunmetal-grey Ford Convertible two years after his sons had died, and it had never given him trouble before. '_I'm here without you baby, but you're still with me in my dreams, and tonight, it's only you and me' _

"God damn thing," he muttered, wiping the sweat from his brow as he climbed out from underneath the car and looked around at his surroundings. Dense, pale fog settled in from all sides, covering him as soft as sea-foam, yet cold as a wave. He walked silently, Jill's letter running through his mind, the song fading behind him. _'It gets hard but it won't take away my love…' _He knew he was crazy, he'd left home without telling anyone, not caring to call in for work or even to lock the door. A dead person can't write a letter, he had said to himself, but couldn't stray from believing that Jill might still be alive somehow. The idea rumbled and snared him to life, turning his mind to fire. If she wanted him to come, he would, no matter the danger he might find, he would do anything to see her again.

"Our special place," he talked quietly amongst himself, his breath warming the icy fog. "She must mean the lake…we took the boys there a lot, they loved it. But the hotel, that was our real special place…we escaped there…could she really be waiting here for me? Could she really be alive?"

He stepped down into the cradle of the forest, leaves stirring and crunching beneath his shoes. It sounded as though he was being followed, but each time he stood frozen the sweeping footsteps were cut off, and he didn't dare look over his shoulder. Fog sifted through the gloom of the trees as he quickened his pace, the air grew colder and the rattling rush of footsteps behind him intensified. To keep himself calm Tim tried again to reason with his own scarred mind, could Jill possibly be in the town? He thought of the three years alone without her, struggling between dream and reality. Where had she gone to, all of that time? Had she left him, had she punished him? Did she blame him for the boys' deaths? And now, was she here, waiting for him, waiting to heal all of his wounds, to finally show him the truth? His head reeled through the icy fog, dampening the material of his deep green jacket. The thought of her alive, to see her again, what if it turned out to be a dream? A dream that imprisons, a dream he could not relinquish, he would not ever let her go. Wrapped in the dreary fog, he lost himself; it was only Jill he wanted to see again, even an illusion of her, and as long as her letter called him to this haunted lonely town he would follow.

Ahead in the dense trees, Tim saw a flicker of darkening life. A branch moved gracefully, someone had been spying and flitted away. He felt the fear settle into the pit of his stomach, through the glassy fog he saw Jill staring at him from behind a silver tree. The fog evaporated, briefly, an ocean wave lifting. His heart caught fire and he called to her, eyes cracking with tears, but she faded from his vision like a veil of dust. Tim coiled his hands into fists, looking for her among the shroud of trees, a haze lifting and falling, taunting him. She was there again, gazing at him, her eyes somber and weary, her lips discolored. Her skin the color of ashes, the dead color of the mist. Tim's breath caught in his chest as he watched her leave him, the beat of his heart slowed with grief. It could not have been his Jill; it was only a phantom with ragged brown hair, born from some fever of his. But the sad lilt of her eyes haunted him. He lowered his head to escape her tantalizing phantom, tears clinging to the tassels of his lashes. Weary to step any further into the hellish town if only more spirits awaited. Had the letter been a trick? His mind was crushed by the exhausting fantasy of seeing her. He longed to return to his car, to somehow get it started and drive as far as he could where the pain could not tear him to shreds, where the memory couldn't poison and beckon. He would have turned back if it were not for their laughter.

Brad, Randy and Mark. Their laughter creeping to him through the dream-ridden fog. Tim shivered and staggered forward, wanting to call out to his sons, but finding his throat burned with fear. He dropped to his knees and covered his face, knowing it could not be real, that he had lost his family years ago. Why would they want to torture him so? He had been waiting so long to see them again, that the shock of their voices was terrifying, how could they suddenly be here? Their gleeful laughter was irresistible, they were ahead somewhere in the town, running and playing, waiting just around the tangle of trees, no longer hiding. Tim dragged himself from the freezing dirt path and followed the sound of their voices, limping from the weight of ecstasy and dread of what he would find.

The fog drifted and cleared, taking with it the boys' pleasant hollowed laughter. A pale green field stretched before Tim, lined with gloomy, flinty gray stones. Empty. His heart burst and wept with dust, led so far by wishes only to crumble. It was a cemetery.


	3. Chapter Two: Here By Me

Although he had been led by the voices of his children into the cemetery, Tim caught no sight of them through the cold shrouds of mist, and no longer did he hear their laughter. The fog sifted across his lips; leaving secret mournful poems there he would soon speak and understand.

_There's too much damn fog, I can't see anything. _He moved through the chilly nest of air, lifting his hands in frustration as if swimming through a lake of watery silver smoke clouds. The gravestones were old and crumbling; he couldn't make out the fine black words inscribed into the battered stone. _What if I'm going the wrong way? What if I get lost in this fog? Is that possible? It's like drowning… _Wearily he let his eyes fall into the dying grass, his feet leading him across the withered blades as his mind drifted past the encroaching fog. The mist felt good settling across his face, but dangerous, foreboding. Was it pushing him away? Was there something hidden in its forgetful depths?

"Who's there? Brad? Randy? Mark?" there was someone stirring ahead, a figure breaking through the flowing clouds like a swimmer emerging from a sea of white. His voice was lost in the wisps of vapor; the figure had not heard him. Puzzled, he decided it was not one of the boys. The figure was taller than a child would be, and he glimpsed locks of long dark hair.

"Excuse me, I," he cleared his throat, unsure of how to approach someone in such a lonely place.

The girl leaped away from the gravestone she had been gazing at in a wistful, longing stupor. "I'm sorry, I, I was just…" she stammered, nearly falling over a chipped cobblestone embedded in the ground.

_She's more afraid of me than I am of her. _Tim backed away from the nervous girl, not wanting to cause too dreadful an alarm. Her charcoal eyes gleamed with fear; she turned them away from him and looked beyond the graveyard, frantic to escape. "It's all right, I didn't mean to scare you," her eyes moved back to his, darted nervously over his shoulder, observing his hands. _Does she think I'm going to hurt her? Could she help me, somehow? _"I, I'm kind of lost," he hoped it wouldn't sound childish, desperate, or even rude. Asking a grieving girl for directions. But her expression was that of bewilderment.

"Lost?"

"I'm looking for Silent Hill. How do I get out of this cemetery?" he pointed at the fog dancing around them. She only stared at him, confused and forlorn. "It's uh, hard to tell, if you haven't noticed," he chuckled anxiously, noticing how she began to pull at the sleeves of her oversized sweater, eyes still haunted with fear.

"Well, there's only one road into town. Even, even with all this fog you should be able to find it,"

"Thanks," he mumbled, preparing to roam through the heavy sheet of mist until he could find the road, even if he was frozen solid by the time he reached Silent Hill, he would get there.

"But…" the girl called after him, he stopped and looked at her once more, growing restless. "I, I think you better stay away. This, this town…there's something wrong with it,"

Tim couldn't help but to laugh at her fragile warning. _Nothing is keeping me away from finding Jill, even if there is something wrong here._

"I'm not lying," her voice filled with pain, she was a sensitive creature and his laughter had left a scar.

"I'm sorry. But I don't care if it's dangerous or not. I'm going to town either way. I'm looking for, someone," he faltered, his heart flared with a memory of Jill and he gazed out across the foggy cemetery grounds.

"Who, who, who is it?" the fragile girl stammered.

"Someone very important to me. I'd do anything if I could be with her again," he felt he was revealing too much, the fog was creeping into his lungs, releasing his mind from its prison. He saw the girl had begun to circle the gravestone she'd been resting by, and looked up to see if she thought badly of him. Instead, she seemed to be lost in her own realm.

"Me too. I'm looking for my mama…" she stopped herself in embarrassment. "I mean my mother. It's been so long since I've seen her. I, I thought my father and brother were here too, but I, I can't find them," she traced her fingers over the cracked headstone. There was such a hopelessness about her, something so fully broken, an air of irreversible damage. Tim wanted to ask how old she was, he suddenly felt protective of her, and wondered if the members of her family she spoke of were dead. Had she been left all alone here? The girl saw him looking at her with pity and let her hand fall from the gravestone. "I'm sorry; it isn't your problem,"

_How many times has she apologized to me since we began talking? _"No, it's all right. I hope you find them. Do they live in Silent Hill?"

She ignored him for a moment, looking back to the dull stone of the grave. "Yeah, you too," was all she offered, her voice rising from a desolate place.

He wanted to help her, but reaching Silent Hill was too important, the letter from Jill still burned his hands, her words hidden away in his mind like a spell of shadows. He had to find his wife. The girl had been on her own before he'd arrived, and she would be fine. With a last look of compassion for her, he tore away into the fog, stumbling past the cragged stones and steeping himself further into the ensconcing mist, dragging his feet in search of the road that would lead him into town.

* * *

><p><em>Is this…Silent Hill? Am I here? <em>Tim emerged into the middle of a street, the fog surrounding him lifting faintly, unveiling the deadness of the town. After following a long, tiring path from the cemetery, with the sound of footsteps rustling behind him all the way, he now stood in oppressive silence. The buildings looming ahead in the fog were lonesome and disheveled, everything had been abandoned. Nothing was as he remembered it. Chilled, he pulled his jacket tighter round his body and began to walk, the echo of his footsteps eerily loud, increasing the desolate fever in his heart.

He followed the deserted street until he came across a foul-smelling stain splashed against the pavement. Disgusted, he examined the marks of smeared red and pulled away in shock. "Is, is this blood?" he shouted to no one. The smears of darkened crimson made him shiver, but he decided to follow them. He grew increasingly perturbed, beads of sweat gathering at the back of his neck and traveling down his spine as the bloody imprints trailed on. The road deepened into a path of dirt, and soon he found himself at a dead end, piles of broken wood patching up a dark, closed tunnel.

"Great, I followed the trail of blood and found some splinters," he muttered to himself, peering into the barricaded, shadowy tunnel. "Maybe they keep the good lumber in there!" he laughed quite madly, but dripping sweat at his neck chilled him to the bone. Holding his breath, he climbed through the broken beams of wood and stood in the darkness, which was illuminated faintly by the fog outside.

There was nothing to see but emptiness and shadow. Disappointed, he stooped down and picked up a remarkably sized piece of wood, it fit rightfully and heavily into his hand, it made him feel secure. Through the quiet suddenly, he heard a light crackling, something like white noise. A lost radio was laying in the dirt, a scratched and haunted thing, singing static up to him. Before he could pick it up, a figure rose before him. It was a revolting creature, its body suppressed in a bloody shell, its arms forever stitched round its middle, faceless and insipid. Nightmarishly, it staggered forward to Tim, offering nothing but torment.

He looked to the beam of wood in his hands, gripped it like a baseball bat and swallowed hard. If he tried to climb back through the barricade, the creature would surely grab hold of him, kill him. The static of the radio grew to a horrible whine. He raised the weapon above his head and brought it down hard upon the creature's leathery skull. It shuddered violently but was still intent on attacking. Another heaving strike from Tim and the monster fell to its knees, a gurgling and grotesque spray of blood soaking the dirt. It toppled over, its gory cocoon of a body giving one last twitch of hellish life, and went still.

Tim sucked in his breath and fell against the brick wall of the tunnel, pressing a hand over his racing heart. _What the hell, what the hell was that? _his mind screamed, the tremor in his hands causing him to drop his stained weapon. The high-pitched whine of the radio softened to a murmur of static once more. Breathing heavily, Tim picked it up from the dust and brushed away the dried soil that covered it. He grabbed the beam of wood as well, and went back through the barricade, afraid his heart would burst through his chest.

"I'm…he….re….com…e…..Ti….m….Co….me…..to…..Si….." a trembling, dissonant voice rose through the static of the radio, Tim nearly dropped it in surprise. "wai…t…..ing….you…."

"Jill," her name unraveled woefully from his lips. Even through the heavy static he knew her voice. He shook the radio, attempting to create a stronger signal, but her broken calls only faded away. He walked on from the tunnel, hoping her messages to him would return, he wanted to drink her voice, so starved was he to hear it. His step was restless, and so were his dreams.

"I….can't…another day….with….out…you"

"What the?" Tim angrily shook the radio again, now slow music was seeping through, haunting him through the waves of static.

"Been waiting….so long….to…..hold you…."

The words struck him painfully; he decided to shut the thing off until he reached the main road, and shoved it into the pocket of his jacket. As he walked the song still wavered through his head, threaded with Jill's pleading voice. The pale fog grew thick again, cold and deadening, but unable to make the fever disappear.

_I can't take another day without you. 'Cause baby I could never make it on my own. I've been waiting so long just to hold you. And to be back in your arms where I belong. _


End file.
